Inclement Weather
by justcourbeau
Summary: Hermione looks forward to the first proper snow at Hogwarts and keeps finding it in odd places. Perhaps a certain Weasley twin is behind the odd occurrences?


Hermione toed the fresh slush with the tip of her Mary Jane shoe with a small smile on her face. Soon it would be colder and fluffy flakes of white would be falling, not this terrible mockery of a Scottish winter.

It was a Tuesday evening and Herbology had just let out, their last class of the day. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been on their way back up to the castle when Fred, George and Lee had called after them, trudging up from Care of Magical Creatures. All six of them were heading slowly for the front steps, cloaks and gloves pulled tight around them. It was late November and the snow was trying to stick, but it was still not quite cold enough.

"Woah!" Hermione gasped, her foot sliding unexpectedly over the grass.

"I've got you."

A hand reached out to her shoulder, lending her some stability and she didn't dare look up for fear of slipping again. Eyes concentrated on her task of not making a fool of herself and falling arse over teakettle, Hermione nodded, her hood heavy with wet snow.

"Thanks George," she thanked him, risking a quick glance up at him.

"Does the princess need help?" came another voice, full of laughter, and Fred made his way around the group at the sight of his twin helping Hermione.

"Princess?" came Hermione's snort.

"I thought that's what the 'P' stood for," he gestured to the Prefect's Badge on her cloak and threw her a dazzling smile over his shoulder as he turned to continue up the slope.

"Don't be a prat, Fred," Hermione shook her head. She was quite tired of the teasing and the fighting over rules that had been taking place since September. Since she had been made Prefect this year, issues had come to head between Fred, George and herself. She had even threatened to write their mother with basically no effect.

"Is _that_ what the 'P' stands for?" George laughed, continuing to step close and make sure she didn't fall.

"Oh, not you as well," Hermione grumbled and shifted her bag so that she wouldn't be put off balance. The steps to the Entrance Hall were nearby and Hermione sighed in relief.

"It's only Tuesday! Don't sound so downtrodden," George snorted, which only managed to grate on her nerves more. She was cold, she was damp, she was tired and she still had so much work to do tonight, and on top of that she had rounds to do with Ron! Hermione was beginning to feel like she was packing in the same amount of work she had in third year, just doing it without the time-turner this time. "Hogsmeade this weekend!"

"Maybe it'll be proper snow by then!" Hermione grinned, mood buoyed.

* * *

Wednesday dawned far too early for Hermione's liking, having been up late last night working on Transfiguration homework. She was still blinking her eyes tiredly as she made her way down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast; she had to stop at the Library to look something up quickly in order to finish her essay for Charms. She finished her oatmeal and juice quickly, one of the first students to make an appearance for the day.

One of the bad things about waking early in winter was that the castle was positively frigid in the morning. Well, it was frigid all the time but it was even more chilly first thing when she still had the warm confines of her blanket and bed on her mind and her clothes were still cold on her skin.

Setting her bag down at her favourite table near one of the tall windows at the back, Hermione checked her notes and went to go find the book she needed over in the Theoretical Charms section a short walk away. Not a soul stirred the stagnant air of the cavernous room of tomes, and Hermione happily ran her finger over the spines of the books, searching for the title she wanted.

"Ah-ha," she muttered to herself, pulling the book from its home and trotting back to her table. She stopped short as she rounded the corner of the Magical Beasts section.

Her whole table was covered in fresh white snow, and the carpet underneath it was sprinkled with it as well.

Her notes!

Hermione hurried over to the table and pulled her sheaves of parchment out from under the glittering mass, sending more of it to the ground.

Where had it all come from?

Hermione looked around but found the Library as empty as when she had walked in, and looking up she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual vaulted ceiling and carved stonework. Snapping out of her perplexed wonderment, Hermione pulled her wand and vanished the snow, hoping it had not left any trace of damage for Madam Pince to find.

_It wasn't even snowing outside._

* * *

Thursday dawned just as early as Wednesday had but the fifth years had no class on Thursdays, which meant Hermione could be found either in the Library or the Gryffindor Common Room working on homework.

"If you don't even try to do the work before the night before it's due, I _won't _be helping you," Hermione quipped and Ron rolled his eyes.

"I _did _try to do this earlier, Hermione, I'm just not as good at this as you are," he wheedled.

"That's tripe and you know it; you didn't bother to make time for anything other than Quidditch practice," Hermione crossed her arms and pushed Ron's essay away from her firmly.

"Quidditch is important," countered another voice and George sunk into the seat next to his younger brother with a complacent grin.

"Not when you have marks like Ron," Hermione shook her head and Ron flushed.

"Fine, don't help me!" he stood and left in a huff.

Hermione dipped a quill into her inkwell and went back to her work, not bothering to get flustered over Ron's departure. It wasn't worth it.

"Ruthless," George nodded slowly, "I like it."

"You don't seem to like it so much when I'm after you for testing products on first years," Hermione didn't look up but she could feel his eyes on her face nonetheless.

"We are going to have to set those unfortunate affairs aside whilst we are not partaking in them," George stated nobly.

"'Unfortunate affairs'?" Hermione blinked and raised her eyes.

"Quite unfortunate," George nodded solemnly, holding her gaze unblinkingly.

Hermione pressed her lips together, a smile threatening to tremble out but unluckily she saw George see it in her face and he grinned, his eyes twinkling. Her heart gave an extra loud thud.

"Yes, quite. But that's natural risk for you; Troublemaker, trouble-stopper," Hermione used the feathered end of her quill to gesture from him to her.

"_Hermione,_ this is exhausting. You're best friends with Harry Potter, the boy who can't keep quiet under any perceived injustice, and Ron Weasley, who couldn't _not _put a foot in it at every opportunity. It's debilitating for _me_ to think about, I can't imagine what it's like for you."

"Your point being?"

"Embrace the malarkey," George replied simply, reclining in his seat across from her as if he had just shown the winning cards to a large pot in a game of poker. He gave her an easy grin and loosened his tie. "Or at least let us carry on undisturbed," he suggested at the look on her face.

"I'm not letting you disfigure poor helpless first years, George Weasley," Hermione went back to her parchment, pulling an open book closer to check something before scribbling in her impressively small cursive.

"I resent that," George remarked with false indignation.

"Damn," Hermione muttered, shuffling through her papers.

"You're taking back the horrendous accusation?"

"What? No," Hermione shook her head, distracted. "I left Spellman's Syllabary upstairs."

Hermione hopped up the Girls' stairs and when she returned a moment later, she found all her books closed. Grumbling, she opened them up to where she had been in the middle of referencing facts, settling back into her seat. When she reached into her bag for another quill, the one she was using just a moment ago having vanished, her fingers touched cold flakes of ice unexpectedly.

Flipping the top up, she found her satchel filled to the brim with snow.

* * *

"Why do you have your own personal snow cloud following you around?" Ginny trotted up to Hermione in the corridor just outside her Charms class which had just let out.

"I've no idea," Hermione answered exasperatedly. "Is Flitwick still in there? I'm hoping he can stop it, I've already tried everything I can think of..." Hermione trailed off, brushing fresh snow from her shoulders for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"He's just having a word with Luna," Ginny answered, observing her friend's dilemma.

A small fluffy cloud about the size of a quaffle was floating around over Hermione as she moved, hovering about a foot and a half above the crown of her head. It was gently snowing, causing it to gather on Hermione's head and shoulders. Ginny reached out a hand and touched the white flakes building up on Hermione slowly, testing it with the tip of her finger and retracting, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together.

"Where'd you pick it up?" Ginny asked, only slightly bemused. Having been raised in a magical household, these sorts of things did not surprise her.

"Outside. I went to the Owlery to send a letter to my parents and I came back with this," she gestured, and then crossed her arms to wait.

"I thought you'd be a bit happier, considering you love snow so much," Ginny snorted.

"When it's _outside_!" Hermione stated vehemently.

An hour later, Hermione and Ginny stepped through the Gryffindor portrait cloudless and snow-free. Hermione was a little put out that she had wasted over an hour getting rid of a silly charm and not managed to finish her Potions essay as planned. The morning had been a complete write-off, and the afternoon only had more suffering in store in the form of Umbridge and the farce that was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

Saturday morning was dark.

It was dark because every window in the dormitory had its curtains drawn and the bed hangings closed against the cold of the castle that was unrelenting this time of year. Sticking her hand out and fumbling around on her side table, Hermione hissed as the cold air chilled the skin of her wrist before grasping her wand finally and pulling her extremity back into the bubble of warmth that was her covers. She cast a warming charm, trying to take the edge off the bitterness and it gave her a small reprieve, a ripple rolls over her exposed face.

If it was this cold inside, she wasn't sure Hogsmeade was such a good idea. The last thing she wanted was to catch her death just to go to Honeydukes. Refusing to emerge from the safety of her bed, Hermione summoned her long johns and other clothing to her and dressed slowly, trying to retain as much warmth as possible. Laying in bed after, Hermione burrowed back under the covers and letting the heat work its way back into her.

When Hermione arrived down in the Common Room she sighed wearily.

Fred and George were in blatant sight on one of the sofas talking to a hesitant looking first year, George holding a clipboard and Fred leaning in close waiting expectantly.

"I thought we discussed this!" Hermione shuffled over to the chair next to them quietly and reached over to pluck the clipboard from George's hands.

"Yes, we had," George nodded making a swipe for the board and succeeding on the first try.

"So you're not going to stop?" she asked exasperatedly and clapped her hands to her jeans.

"Does it look like we've stopped?" Fred asked rhetorically before going back to his close observation.

"Urgh!" Hermione slumped in her seat. "You're basically forcing me to give you deten-"

"Shh!" George reached out and placed his hand over her mouth with an appalled look on his face directed at her.

"Mmmfph-" Hermione frowned at George, alarmed, and tried to pull away but he dropped the clipboard quickly and reached behind her head with the other hand to hold her still. His hold was gentle and Hermione could have pulled his hands away if she had wanted to try, but something stopped her from pushing his arm away as he leaned in close again.

"Don't say detention," he said lowly, looking at her intently. "If you don't say it, _Umbridge won't know_. You care for our sanity and well-being, yes?"

Hermione nodded, George's hand still warm on her mouth and he grinned, flexing the fingers of his other hand only slightly and Hermione felt the tips sink into her hair a fraction.

"Granger, will you put your feminine wiles away for a tick? I need George's help and he can't concen - Ouch! Bugger!" Fred scowled and rubbed his ribs where George jabbed him, his Quidditch skills allowing him to release Hermione in record time.

"Why don't we catch you later, Granger? Wouldn't want the coming exchange to eat at your conscience. See you in Hogsmeade, yeah?" George gave her a strained smile and his cheeks were taking on a flush.

"Better wear a hat," Fred commented from behind his twin on the sofa and Hermione quirked her head, slowly looking away from George and trying to understand just what was going on between them.

"What?" she asked Fred, confused.

"Look," he pointed vaguely at the large windows behind her and Hermione turned.

Outside the Gryffindor Tower was a winter wonderland; everything in sight was covered in a thick blanket of fresh white snow and the cloud cover was bright. Hermione grinned and skipped back up to get her winter boots.

After breakfast, during which Hermione kept looking out the intricate window panes at the sprinkling of snow still falling, the students began to make their way down to the wizarding village. Harry and Ron were far ahead, heads together scheming over something and planning to head straight to Zonko's, and Hermione was trailing behind with Ginny.

The girls stepped slowly, Hermione relishing in the snow crunching under her boots so much that she barely felt the cold. Eventually they were overtaken by Fred, George, Lee and Neville. Ginny skipped ahead with Neville, the two of them having developed a closer friendship since he had asked her to the Yule Ball last year. Fred threw George a pointed look and engaged Lee in a heated discussion over firework igniting methods and they sped ahead quickly, leaving George walking along beside Hermione quietly.

"Aren't you missing out?" she nodded towards his twin and friend and George laughed.

"No," he shook his head. "I've already had this conversation with him."

"Any plans for when we get there?" George prompted and gazed at her expectantly, looking down only to check his footing.

"Just Honeydukes. My mum loves their 'Best Milk' bars and put in a request with her last letter," Hermione answered, looking over to him.

The two of them trundled along, Hermione casting happy glances over the crisp white hill and reaching up to tuck her back behind her ear and adjust her scarf.

"Go on," George says, hands in his pockets and gesturing to with his elbow.

"Pardon?" Hermione asks, confused.

"Have a go, you know you want to," he continues, grinning.

"I want to what, exactly?" Hermione asks shrewdly, confused.

"Disturb all that fresh snow! Make a snow angel or build a snowman!" he grinned and nodded towards the field.

Hermione grinned, holding back.

"Go on!" he spurred her, slowing to a stop. "Make a mess of it!"

Excitement bubbled in her chest and Hermione paused a moment before hopping off the path and into two feet of fresh snow, grinning down at her feet. She stamped around a few times before looking back at George.

"Is that it? Pathetic," George shook his head, laughing. "Go mad!" He hopped into the snow close by and Hermione gaped at him.

"Pathetic? How rude!" Her hand reached out and she shoved him lightly, putting him off balance and causing him to topple into the snow gracelessly. When he looked up at her from the ground with an astonished look on his face tinged with something dangerous, Hermione's eyes widened and she took off before a second had ticked by.

"That's right, you better run!" she heard from behind her and she knew without looking that he had pushed himself up and was on her heels. Inhibitions blowing away with the chill wind in her hair, Hermione feel a squeal well up in her throat and before she knew it she was laughing and puffing out clouds of foggy breath in the cold.

A snowball went flying past her head and she gasped.

"I thought you were a beater?! Where's your aim?" she threw over her shoulder and she heard him choke on her facetious insult. He took a swipe at her back and caught her arm, both of them tumbling to the ground, the air forced out of her lungs by the impact. They lay there for a moment, gasping and laughing and heaving cold air into their lungs.

"George, you're crushing me," Hermione panted and George shifted, standing above her and offering his hand to pull her up. When she was upright again George brushed some snow out of her hair and tugged the toque from his head, pulling it down over her ears and giving her an intense look.

"And I have great aim," George said, raising his nose in the air jokingly and turning on his heel to stomp thought the snow back to the trodden path down to Hogsmeade. "Took _you _down, didn't I?"

The wink he threw over his shoulder at her made her heart flutter around in her chest and she grinned, pulling the toque down on her head and setting off after him, thinking perhaps she had found the answer to her week of snow.

* * *

**A/N: By request!  
**

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**Until next time.**


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